Inside their heads…

Bois Jacques woods overlooking Foy, ahead of Bastogne

Throwing myself into a half-dug foxhole as the trees were bursting around me, my mind began to race. All I could think about was staying alive. Soldiers were screaming and yelling 'medic' all around me as Kraut artillery tour the forest apart. I held my body as low and as close to the dirt as possible in the foxhole that I had so hastily entered. I pulled my helmet down and put my head between my crotch. Suddenly a man slammed into me and startled me causing me to let out a loud gasp. It was Sergant Lipton. I heard him say, "Jesus Christ" then bury his head in his crotch. As fast was it had started it ended. The men got out of their foxholes and began helping the wounded. I remained put, a little shaken. I tried to regroup my thoughts, but all that my brain said was, "you lucky son of a bitch."

Besides the spontaneous fire every so often, things went back to 'normal' on the line. As 'normal' as it gets, that is. Except the fact that it was freezing cold, I was hungry, I didn't have enough ammo, and my foxhole was destroyed by Kraut artillery, it was as 'normal' as it gets for war.

Me and Webster usually shared a foxhole, so he was sittin' beside me after we re-dug our hole. He opened his canteen and poured the contents into his mouth.

"They say alcohol makes you colder when you're cold" he said.

"Screw them." I replied grabbing the canteen from his hand and taking a swig.

The liquid burned all the way down my throat, until it reached my empty stomach. Nobody every knew when we would get supplies, and what we did have was running low, so I was always hungry and cold.

Later in the afternoon, Lt. Dike has us gather around and told us that he wanted an organized group sent out past the front line; to try and get any information on they're line or any prisoners. He said he wanted a good 9-man patrol, including; rifleman, machine guns, and covering fire. The only thing he didn't' tell us was, the plan. So it was up to Lipton to provide us with a tactical plan to go by.

At 0100 we headed out. The ground was covered in a soft snow, and a good chilling breeze was blowing. We got about 200 meters from our front line and the Germans had spotted us. They opened fire on us, sending us running like chickens for good cover. I ran behind two trees that were close together, took my M1 off of safe and began returning fire. It was more than obvious that they outnumbered us. I only had 4 extra clips, so I made sure my shots counted. I put my gun on the side of the tree, poked my head out for no more than 3 seconds, took aim, and fired. Missed. Try again. Got him. There was a burning sensation flowing through my body that day, and every shot I made, make me feel invincible. I kept shooting till the Krauts thought we had twice as many soldiers as we actually had and began falling back. At that time Lipton shouted "Seis fire" and we stopped. Webster came up behind me, with a pack of smokes, pointing them towards me indicating to take one. I pulled one out of the package, and he gave me a light.

I felt like I won in a short, small way. Even though we didn't accomplish much in this patrol, I still felt like I did something. We began to head back to the frontline, and I carried my M1 with pride, a cigarette between my lips. As we continued to walk back, all the sudden I heard a 'click'. I motioned for the group to crouch down. Then just as we thought that the sound has passed, about 10 or 11 more 'clicks' were heard. We were surrounded. I look to Shifty couching next to me, and asked him, "wudda see?" He looked at me and whispered, "2 of em' behind those bushes," as he nodded, "another 2 behind those trees, and the rest I dono." he stated. We waited for Lipton's order.

I got a long way to go, and my plot line isn't complete…but let me know what you think so far….